


One Heart Poisoned, Another Ensnared

by beardyswrites



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Episode: s05e08 The Hollow Queen, Gay Panic, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Master & Servant, Once and Future King, Pining Arthur, Protective Arthur, Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Unconsciousness, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 02:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20827979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardyswrites/pseuds/beardyswrites
Summary: Arthur tuned out to the world after some time, his thoughts drifting amidst the thunderous gallop of the horses’ hooves. He tried to focus, but it was as if the rhythmic thudding had aligned itself with the pounding of his heart. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Mer-lin. Mer-lin.Merlin.(In which Merlin is poisoned, Arthur and Gwaine charge to the rescue, and the king realises just how much he cares about his manservant.)





	One Heart Poisoned, Another Ensnared

**Author's Note:**

> This has probably been done to death but here is my take on Merlin's survival in 5x08! It feels good to get back into this show again, I've missed it. Anyway, enjoy! xx

Arthur knocked on the door of the knights’ quarters.

He had every right to barge in; he was king, after all, but he was loathe to walk in on ... ahem. Personal matters. It had happened before, and he certainly wasn’t keen for it to happen again.

Mere seconds later, Gwaine yanked the door open, scrubbing his eyes sleepily. A look of alertness swept across his face the moment he saw Arthur. He frowned at the expression on his features. “Something troubling you, sire?” 

Arthur was relieved to see him. He trusted his guard through thick and thin, all of them bound closer than blood, but Gwaine possessed a quality none of the rest did: his close relationship with Arthur’s manservant.

He sighed heavily. “It’s Merlin,” he told him quietly, glancing about the empty corridor. “He still hasn’t returned.”

“You think Merlin’s in some sort of trouble, eh?” Gwaine said, crossing his arms. He leaned against the doorway, but his posture was anything but relaxed.

Arthur shook his head. “There’s something going on; Gaius wouldn’t be worrying unless he was certain something was wrong.”

Gwaine placed a hand on his sword; the weapon never left his side, not even in slumber. “When do we leave?”

Despite himself, Arthur laughed quietly. “Who said anything about taking you?”

“Why else would you come here in the middle of the night? Not for a drink, I’m sure.”

“Fair point,” Arthur admitted. “I’m leaving at first light, and I would like you to accompany me. You’ll be useful if we come across any bandits or the like.”

His words were a facade, and they both knew it. An official statement, nothing more.

“Bandits?” Gwaine raised his eyebrows. “How far are we going?”

Arthur glanced behind him for a moment before turning back to Gwaine. “The Valley of the Fallen Kings,” he murmured, fighting back a shudder at the mere mention of it. “Merlin told Gaius he would be passing that way; it’s a start, if anything.”

Gwaine nodded. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard at dawn.”

Arthur threw him a small, grateful smile, clapping him on the shoulder before heading back to his room; his now unbearably empty room.

He cursed to himself. He should have been able to get a decent night’s sleep without having to fret about Merlin popping in and out constantly. He should have been relieved to be left in peace without Merlin prattling on incessantly about his day, groaning about his chores, or announcing with gleaming eyes how he had punched yet another hole in Arthur’s belt.

But Arthur absolutely hated it.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself, he missed Merlin. Merlin had grown into an extended part of him, an extra limb he hadn’t ever known he needed ... another part of his heart he hadn’t ever realised was missing.

Exhaling heavily, Arthur shook his head clear. There would be time for reminiscing later. Now, he had a quest to prepare for.

o-o-o-o-o

Horse hooves hit the ground with a clatter as Arthur and Gwaine galloped out of Camelot on their mounts, blazing red capes streaming behind them in the wind as they hastened across the countryside.

The sun crawled across the sky at an excruciatingly slow pace. Neither talked much, faces set in stone, the tension in the air palpable. Even Gwaine had lost his cheer, instead settling into stony silence, his hand brushing his sword every so often.

Arthur tuned out to the world after some time, his thoughts drifting amidst the thunderous gallop of the horses’ hooves. He tried to focus, but it was as if the rhythmic thudding had aligned itself with the pounding of his heart. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Mer-lin. Mer-lin. Mer-lin._

It was a dark shadow across the horizon that jerked Arthur from the tumult of his thoughts, the emerald green of the forest beneath a now clouded sky.

Gwaine and Arthur shared an unnerved glance before wordlessly spurring their horses onward, ploughing across the remaining distance and into the woods, the sunlight instantly swallowed up by the thick tree canopy. The place had never felt so foreboding.

“We’ll leave the horses here,” Arthur announced as they neared the Valley. “It’ll be easier to look for Merlin if we’re on foot.”

Gwaine nodded as they dismounted, his eyes darting around. “Maybe we should split up,” he said, his voice tight with anxiety. “It’s not normally high on my list of suggestions, but there are plenty of shortcuts through here. We’ll find him quicker that way.”

_If Merlin is still here_. His words went unsaid, but Arthur heard them all the same. His jaw clenched. “Yell if you find anything,” he told Gwaine as they tied the horses to a tree, “and I’ll get to you as soon as I can. Don’t wander further than you have to.”

“Hear, hear, sire.”

Drawing their swords, the two men nodded at one another and headed in their separate directions, the shadows swallowing them up.

Arthur stepped over fallen trees and ducked under low branches, his sword grasped tightly in his hand as he looked for signs of people traveling through the area recently - snagged material, fire remnants, a disturbance in the dirt.

But as much as he searched, he could find no indication of life beyond that of the usual forest inhabitants.

Arthur fought desperately to stamp down on his emotions, taking a deep breath as he put his training to use. Goodness, he was worried. He was far more worried than he ever should have been for his manservant. _Unnatural_, others would say, even as the knights looked on fondly when they thought neither Merlin nor Arthur were looking.

His mind harked back to similar situations. Merlin, drinking from a poisoned chalice; Merlin, throwing himself in front of otherworldly spirits in Arthur’s place; Merlin, missing for days before turning up in the middle of the forest, covered in muck and smelling like a swamp but by god, smiling like he had found the answer to life itself.

_Merlin_.

Trudging on, Arthur came across a small gorge with a steep hill on one side and a jagged, rocky wall on the other. A headache starting to form between his eyes, he peered over the edge, hoping for a clue, a sign, _anything_. Logically, it was a process of elimination; if Merlin wasn’t here, then it was one less place to look later. But it didn’t stop the raw aching in his chest, the crushing weight of disappointment -

His heart shuddered.

“Merlin!” Arthur scrambled down the steep hillside, the rock scraping uncomfortably against his chainmail before he landed with a thud by Merlin’s feet. He bolted frantically to his side. “Merlin!” he repeated. “Can you hear me?” 

Merlin gasped raggedly, his eyes barely opening. “Arthur,” he choked out, a chilling black liquid oozing from his mouth. He was barely conscious.

Arthur clamped a hand down on Merlin’s shoulder, his throat tightening with panic. “Shh, it’s alright, we’re gonna get you out of here.” He looked up. “Gwaine!” he yelled. “I found him!”

There was a holler from distantly in the trees.

Arthur turned back to Merlin, staring in blatant horror at the sheer state of him. Merlin was deathly pale and drenched with sweat, spitting out black liquid and foam as he struggled to breathe. “Who did this to you?” he muttered, shocked.

There was the sound of heavy boots crashing haphazardly against the ground, mere seconds before Gwaine’s face appeared over the the top of the slope. His face paling at the sight before him, he threw himself over the ledge and frantically skidded down towards them. 

“What the hell happened to him?” Gwaine panted, crashing to his knees beside Arthur.

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know. We need to get him back to Gaius.”

He put his arms under Merlin’s back and knees, Merlin groaning quietly in discomfort as he was lifted from the ground. In other circumstances, Arthur would have thrown Merlin over his shoulder, but he feared it would worsen his condition.

As Gwaine sprinted on ahead to scout for another path to reach the horses, Arthur’s eyes burned viciously. He blinked desperately to try clear his vision. “Hold on, Merlin,” he murmured. “Just hold on, you idiot.”

Merlin coughed weakly, his expression barely flickering at the words, and Arthur’s heart clenched. The clock had been ticking long before they had even shown up.

He knew they didn’t have long left.

o-o-o-o-o

“Arthur,” Merlin murmured, eyes screwed shut and face contorting in pain as they reached the horses.

“Don’t speak. We’re getting you back to Camelot, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Just hang on a bit longer. Gaius will be able to help you.”

Gwaine helped Arthur hoist Merlin onto the saddle in front of him, and then they were off, spurring their horses back to Camelot as fast as they could. His hand pressed to Merlin’s chest to keep him in place, Arthur held on to Merlin for dear life, desperately praying they would get back in time; his heartbeat was dangerously slow beneath Arthur’s fingertips.

They reached Camelot just as night began to fall. Arthur and Gwaine rushed Merlin to Gaius’s quarters, pounding on the physician’s door and shouting his name frantically until he let them in.

The physician went so pale Arthur wondered briefly if the elderly man was about to pass out himself.

Hastening across the room, Gaius immediately pulled out the spare bed they kept aside for patients. Arthur carefully lowered Merlin onto the cot, the manservant a frighteningly dead weight in his arms.

“We need to get his jacket off him,” Gaius told them.

“Here, let me help,” Arthur said. He pulled the coat off Merlin as quickly and gently as he could before yanking the scarf over his head, pulling the ties on Merlin’s shirt loose while he was at it.

A hand touched his arm. “Arthur, let Gaius,” Gwaine told him quietly.

Heat rose to Arthur’s face. Swallowing thickly, he finally nodded, stepping back to give the physician room to examine his patient.

The silence stretched. Arthur began to pace, unable to take the stillness any longer, needing to move, needing to do _something_. His hands itched to hold Merlin, to _help_ him in some way.

“He’s been poisoned,” Gaius confirmed.

Arthur stilled, a lead weight settling in his stomach. “You can treat him though, can’t you?”

Gaius sighed. In the lamplight, he suddenly looked ancient, as old as the wisdom he often imparted upon Arthur. “I can’t say. I’m not familiar with this poison. Whatever he’s been given, it seems to have been designed to kill the person slowly and painfully.” He looked at Merlin. “It might be too late already. The poison may have been in his system too long.”

“But you will try, won’t you?”

Gaius stared at Arthur so fiercely he suddenly felt ashamed to have dared ask. “Of course I will. I’m going to try everything I have.”

“Milfoil,” Merlin rasped, barely audible.

Gaius bent down, leaning closer to him. “What was that, Merlin?”

Merlin coughed and vomited all over his shoulder. Gaius grabbed a cloth, mopping him up as Gwaine passed him a bucket of water. After a moment, Merlin lifted his head, straining to summon enough energy to talk. “Milfoil. Rue. Ground into a tincture.”

He shuddered, collapsing back onto the bed.

“Merlin?” Arthur called, gripping his shoulder desperately. “Merlin!”

But he was already unconscious, his lips parting as his expression slackened.

Gaius glanced at his supply cupboard. “Keep a close eye on Merlin. I need to gather some herbs.”

As the physician hurried out the door, Arthur sat down on a stool beside the cot. “Even on your deathbed you know what you’re doing,” he muttered, sighing. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was afraid, his chest so tight with dread he could barely breathe. It was as if he could see the poison seeping through Merlin, draining the very life from him.

Arthur didn’t know if he could face it. Unless a miracle occurred, he was going to lose his most trusted and loyal friend - not just his manservant.

“Merlin’s pretty tough.” Arthur turned to where Gwaine was sitting on the steps leading up to Merlin’s room. “He can survive this.”

“I hope you’re right.” Arthur glanced at the door, a hardness sweeping across his features, his mind made up. “I need you to inform the court that I’m holding off the treaty signing until the morn after tomorrow.”

Gwaine’s brow furrowed. “Arthur?” he asked carefully.

Arthur shook his head. “I’ll explain it to them later. Tell them it’s ... a personal matter, or I’ve fallen ill; whatever it takes. I’m not going to leave Merlin now.”

His eyes softening, Gwaine nodded, standing up. “Yes, sire.”

He strode across the room, pausing as he passed Merlin to tug the blankets up over him again. He stopped again in the doorway, looking over his shoulder. “He will make it,” he told Arthur firmly, his expression blazing. “Because if he dies I’m gonna do whatever it takes to bring him back and kick his sorry ass for it.”

When the footsteps of the other knight had long since faded, Arthur went and grabbed another cloth from Gaius’s cupboard. He dipped it in the bucket of water and placed the cloth on Merlin’s forehead, wiping away the sweat that had since beaded. He watched the stuttered rise and fall of his torso, his heart clenching viciously.

“I’m truly sorry we didn’t get to you sooner, Merlin,” Arthur said quietly. “I didn’t think you were in any serious danger, even after Gaius spoke to me.”

He swallowed thickly. The words, his apologies, didn’t sound enough; could never _be_ enough. They sounded like mere excuses even to his own ears, and now Merlin was paying the price.

Arthur sniffled, his eyes burning. “My actions have probably cost you your life, and for that I’m truly sorry.” He exhaled shakily. “Gods, I’m so sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin coughed. “Arthur,” he wheezed.

Arthur moved the cloth to wipe the side of his face, where more foam had bubbled out of his mouth as he lay there passed out. “Shh, you’re alright now,” he choked out. He hoped so, _desperately_.

Minutes stretched into hours, and still Arthur sat by Merlin’s side, refusing to go anywhere even when Gwaine came by and told him he could stay with Merlin for a while. He had brought Arthur a plate of bread and cheese anyway, as if he’d known the king would refuse his offer.

Gaius came back to his chambers some time afterwards to find Arthur still there, pressing a damp cloth to Merlin’s face. He smiled knowingly to himself and started placing the herbs on the table, retrieving bowls and utensils for making them into a solution. “Perhaps you could have been a physician, Arthur, had you not been born royal.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Arthur said distractedly.

Pursing his lips, Gaius set down his equipment and went and stood next to Arthur. He had seen the same troubled look on his features far too many times before. “Sire, do not blame yourself.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Arthur kept his gaze on Merlin.

“Because you didn’t harm him.”

“But if I had reached Merlin sooner -”

“Merlin’s predicament is not your fault,” Gaius told him firmly.

Arthur finally looked up at him, his expression painfully _broken_. Sighing, Gaius pressed a hand to Arthur’s shoulder. “The person to blame is the one that poisoned him,” he said quietly. “We should be glad you found Merlin when you did. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I can understand that you’ve had much on your mind lately; running a kingdom comes with many responsibilities.”

Arthur sighed heavily and turned back to Merlin. “A friend is more important than a treaty.”

_A friend_, he scoffed at himself. _Merlin was so much more._

o-o-o-o-o

Merlin stirred just as the potion was ready, gasping and crying out as he became conscious again. Arthur hated to think about it, but Merlin looked visibly worse than before, his skin a sickly grey colour, his eyes dull and missing their usual spark of life.

Arthur had always thought of Merlin as sunshine, who brightened the very room by simply _existing_. Now, his very soul was hidden behind a dark foreboding cloud, eclipsing the rays of light.

Merlin tried desperately to speak, but Arthur stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Gaius has the antidote,” he assured him. He looked over at the physician, who nodded, shaking a cup in his hand. “You’re going to be fine, Merlin,” Arthur said.

Merlin jerked his head sharply, his mouth twisted in a pained grimace.

Gaius stood on Merlin’s other side, gently placing a hand under his head and raising it up. “Hold his nose,” he instructed Arthur as he lifted the cup to Merlin’s cracked lips.

His heart wrenching to see Merlin so helpless, Arthur wordlessly did as Gaius asked, the liquid disappearing down Merlin’s throat. When the cup was empty, Gaius carefully placed Merlin’s head back on the pillow and put the goblet back on the table.

Suddenly, Merlin hand snatched Arthur’s wrist. “Hold ... me,” he gasped.

His whole body started to shake violently.

Arthur stared, bewildered, an icy terror surging through him. “Gaius!” he shouted. Merlin was still holding tightly to his arm; Arthur pressed it forcefully to Merlin’s chest to keep him down. “Gaius, what’s wrong with him?!”

“It’s the antidote reacting with the poison!” Gaius cried, frantically reaching over to help.

Merlin was convulsing now, spasming and thrashing about on the bed, his face contorted in pain, teeth clenched as if he were holding in a scream. Arthur held Merlin as tightly as he could, his eyes wild with panic, his thoughts racing a mile a minute as Merlin’s heart thrashed violently beneath his hands, as if knowing its beats were numbered, as if determined to beat one last time.

_Please, not Merlin_, Arthur silently begged whatever gods were listening, his eyes burning. _Please, not Merlin. Just let him live. I’ll do anything._

Gaius pressed on Merlin’s shoulder, and together they held Merlin’s upper body still as he convulsed agonisingly between them, his eyes rolling back in his head, black liquid pooling from his mouth.

Until suddenly, Merlin went limp between them.

Arthur’s heart stopped. “Merlin!” he yelled, fearing the worst. “No, Merlin!”

He didn’t respond, his body as limp and pale as before. Arthur gripped his hand painfully tight, uncaring for his lack of control. He couldn’t lose Merlin. He _couldn’t_.

His head spun. By the gods, he couldn’t _breathe_.

Gaius stuck his fingers under Merlin’s chin, checking for a pulse. “He’s not dead, sire. It’s his body reacting to the antidote.”

Arthur stared at him. He shifted his hand, settling his fingers over Merlin’s wrist. And there, sure enough, was the faint thrum of blood through his veins; a heartbeat.

Gaius straightened up, looking as relieved as Arthur felt. “Now we must wait to see if he will recover. We will know when he wakes.”

Arthur nodded, shaking. The thought remained unspoken between them of what would happen if Merlin did not wake.

Gaius grabbed another cloth for Merlin’s face and sat down with him, starting to wipe the sheen of sweat off Merlin’s forehead. “You should get some rest, sire.”

Arthur immediately shook his head. “I’m not tired.”

“You look exhausted. Get some rest; I’ll sit with Merlin for a while,” Gaius said. When Arthur continued to hesitate, the physician smiled kindly. “If you want, you can use Merlin’s bed so you don’t have to go far.”

Arthur sat silently for a moment. He had an appearance to keep up, a reputation to uphold.Questions would be asked, rumours would be spread if he didn’t return to his quarters for the night. He was king, yes, but he wasn’t immune to castle gossip. Even if that weren’t the case, he had guests to attend to.

But he would be damned if he left Merlin alone when he was still perilously close to death; after all he had done for him, Arthur owed him that much.

He stopped halfway to the door.

“Thank you, Gaius,” he said quietly. With one last look at Merlin, Arthur turned and traipsed up to his manservant’s room.

o-o-o-o-o

When Arthur woke up the next morning and headed back into Gaius’s main chambers, his back aching from the hard bed, he found Merlin still unconscious.

Gaius smiled at Arthur from his stool next to Merlin. “I made you a hot drink, sire.” He gestured to a steaming cup on the table. “It’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.”

Arthur nodded appreciatively and grabbed it, taking a careful sip before resuming his seat beside his friend. He noticed Merlin had some more natural colour in his face, and there was no longer a constant stream of foam coming from his mouth. “How is he?”

“He’s slowly recovering,” Gaius informed him. “He probably won’t be conscious until later today.”

Arthur sat on his stool quietly, his hands wrapped around the warm mug. “I’m grateful you managed to heal him.”

Gaius chuckled. “Thank Merlin. He knew exactly what I would need.” He watched Arthur for a moment, thinking of how much the king had stayed at Merlin’s side when he had plenty of other duties. “You care about him,” he said. A statement, not a question.

Arthur sighed heavily. “I never used to be able to stand the sight of him,” he admitted, shaking his head and chuckling quietly. “Now I’m praying to whatever gods there are that he makes a full recovery.” He looked down. “I don’t want to lose him.” _Can’t_.

Gaius smiled knowingly. “You need eachother,” he said simply.

He looked out the window, judging the hour by the sunlight filtering into the room. “I need to deliver some potions,” Gaius said. “I will be back shortly. Look after Merlin for me.”

“I will,” Arthur said, grateful for the opportunity to be alone with his thoughts again as the physician left the room. Grabbing the cloth again, he carefully wiped down Merlin’s face. 

Gaius was right. He did care about Merlin. He was so much more than a manservant. Arthur enjoyed his company, their banter, their playful insults, the way he could confide the most secret things to Merlin.

There was no other way to put it. He couldn’t imagine a life without Merlin there with him.

o-o-o-o-o

Merlin slowly opened his eyes, blinking heavily in an attempt to clear his clouded vision. As everything came back into focus, he saw a man sitting next to him, leaning over and dumping something in a bucket of water.

“Arthur,” Merlin croaked.

A wet cloth in his hand, Arthur sat up so fast he just about kicked the bucket by his feet. “Merlin!” he exclaimed. A bright, relieved smile graced his features, his eyes flaring to life. Reaching out, he carefully squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “How you feeling?”

“Like death warmed up,” Merlin said, giving Arthur a weak smile.

Arthur chuckled back quietly in response. Merlin’s face was still frighteningly ashen, but at least he was alive and healing. _Alive_. “I’m glad you’re okay, Merlin,” he said.

Something flickered in Merlin’s eyes. “Thank you for getting me out of there.” He closed his lids briefly, his expression haunted. “Thought I was gonna die alone in that place.”

Arthur swallowed heavily. “We arrived there as quickly as we could. Gwaine and I set out when we realised something wasn’t right.”

Merlin laughed feebly. “Bet you thought I was in the tavern again.”

“It crossed my mind.”

They shared a grin. Merlin’s head flopped back onto the pillow. “I’m exhausted and I only just woke up,” he muttered.

“Get some more rest,” Arthur said. “We’ll talk again when you’re feeling better.”

Merlin nodded, letting sleep claim him, vaguely aware of Arthur putting a damp cloth on his forehead. He’d have to ask him about that later.

o-o-o-o-o

It was several days before Merlin remained conscious long enough to hold a conversation.

Merlin and Arthur sat there quietly together as the night grew darker, the candles glowing brighter in the evening gloom. Gaius had already fallen asleep on Merlin’s cot in the next room, his quiet snores drifting through the air; the two of them had been left well alone. It was peaceful, comfortable ... _safe_.

Arthur had almost dreaded this moment.

“Who did this to you?” he asked for the second time since he had found Merlin.

Merlin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again, his expression tortured. “Morgana.”

_Of course_. Arthur looked down at his hands. “I feared as much.”

“She used someone to lure me out of Camelot,” Merlin continued. “A boy arrived late the other night and told me he needed help to heal his sister. I believed him, but Gaius warned me against it.” He shook his head. “Morgana was there instead. She blasted me with her magic; I was nearly unconscious when she forced the poison into me.” He shuddered violently. “She said I was going to wish I was dead,” he whispered.

Both of them were silent for a long, heavy moment. “And did you?” Arthur asked quietly.

Merlin nodded.

Arthur felt his heart caving within his chest, wishing he had been able to protect Merlin, wishing he could shield him from the horrors Morgana was willing to inflict upon them all in her endless thirst for Camelot’s throne. “I’m sorry you suffered so greatly at her hands,” he said, his throat painfully tight.

_The words didn’t sound enough; could never be enough._

Merlin shook his head again. “I heard what you said to Gaius,” he said suddenly.

Arthur frowned. “What?”

Merlin shrugged. “I wasn’t always asleep. I heard some of what was going on.” He gave Arthur a smile, so warm and _tender_ it wrenched at Arthur’s heart. “Don’t blame yourself. Stop apologising.”

Arthur gazed at Merlin for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if we had reached you too late.”

The room softened, the world slowing around them; Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. There was something strangely vulnerable in Merlin’s clouded eyes, a flicker of longing, of something agonising that Arthur almost feared touching.

And then Merlin laughed, and the moment was gone. “You would have had to find yourself a new servant.”

Arthur forced himself to roll his eyes. “Yes, and preferably one that isn’t as useless as you are.”

Merlin just grinned impishly at him, and Arthur’s heart doubled over in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha I wrote this back in early 2014. (5 AND A HALF YEARS HOLY SHIT) I was rereading it and thought, “hey, it just needs a little touch up” and so here we are! The backbones of the scenes were already there (with plenty of useable dialogue, I was honestly shocked), I just improved them. Some parts of this are definitely better than others but I've really missed writing Merthur! No kisses in this one haha but maybe ... maybe later.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave comments and kudos :) xx


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